


Sheogorath Serves Haskill

by Sheogorath



Series: Post-Greymarch [6]
Category: The Elder Scrolls IV: Oblivion
Genre: Humour, M/M, Slash, The Shivering Isles, Transformation, crackfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-22
Updated: 2013-01-22
Packaged: 2017-11-26 12:51:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,157
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/650712
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sheogorath/pseuds/Sheogorath
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When His chamberlain has a problem, the Madgod is intrigued, leading to a new way of life for them both.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sheogorath Serves Haskill

One day near the end of Hearthfire, Sheogorath came up with a plan and called for Haskill to help Him put it into practice. The chamberlain showed up nearly a minute later, looking grumpy and squeezing his groin.

"What do You require, my Lord?" he snarked, resentment bubbling just beneath his normally reserved facade.

"Haskill, I want you to... Whatever _is_ the matter?" the vampiric Madgod enquired, at last noticing that something was wrong.

"I was in the middle of a very special time for chamberlains, my Lord."

"Oh? What kind of 'special time'?"

"It's something like the Argonian mating season, my Lord, except that it occurs all year round, and when it happens outside of the mating season, I have to look after myself."

"Why don't _I_ look after you, Haskill?" Sheogorath asked, His original plan now quite forgotten in His intrigue.

"That's quite all right, my Lord, I'm used to handling this problem myself."

" _Please_ let me handle it for you."

Haskill, unused to hearing the Prince of Madness asking for anything, reluctantly capitulated.

"As You wish, my Lord, but it will have to be somewhere more secluded."

Sheogorath nodded, grasped His chamberlain's hand, then dashed with him to the Fountainhead, where He now kept His PC since the duchies of Mania and Dementia had been renewed with the investiture of replacements for Thadon and Syl.

✱   ✱   ✱

"Now, what should I do?"

"What are those creatures, my Lord?"

"They're just Gnarls, and their job is to keep the place tidy. Don't worry about them."

"All right, my Lord. I believe we should start by getting undressed."

Haskill started to unbutton his shirt, but was soon stopped by the Lord of the Never There, who undressed His servant Himself before removing His own clothes.

"Doesn't your manhood need to be hard, Haskill?"

"The situation _is_ rather awkward, my Lord. I've only ever done this on my own before."

Almost instinctively, Sheogorath cupped His chamberlain's balls and rubbed them gently, and the Breton shivered and gently groaned as they began to draw up and harden in his Lord's grasp.

"Oh, my Lord."

"Yes?"

"Please hold me like this, my Lord."

With that, Haskill moved until his back was against the Madgod's chest, the smooth warmth of the scales making him shudder slightly once more, then he raised Sheogorath's left arm until it was against his neck.

"Yes, I've often fantasised about this, my Lord, being held by You in this way as You feed on me."

"Why have you never said so before? I am always happy to oblige My chosen mate, even outside of the mating season."

Immediately He had said this, the umbric Argonian sank His fangs into Haskill's neck, making the chamberlain instantly rock hard and straining at his full length. Haskill was dimly aware of a hand not his own rubbing him with the thumb and first two fingers, then a few minutes later, he crashed over the edge and came.

"My Lord, my Lord! I LOVE You!"

The Breton felt something wet placed on the twin wounds on his neck, then the long, pointed tongue of his mate as it swept over them, healing him.

"What was that?" he gasped.

"Hmm? What was what?"

"What You did just before You healed me."

"I want to turn you so your sleep pattern is the same as Mine during the mating season."

Haskill blanched. He didn't want to be a vampire, and the idea of becoming one sent a thrill of fear rushing through him. He would just have to take measures to prevent the progress of the Porphyric Haemophilia that was now coursing through his veins.

✱   ✱   ✱

One night in the middle of Morning Star, Haskill got up out of bed, feeling very hungry. His nose twitched as a delicious smell wafted across it, and he gave a huge, appreciative sniff before following the scent whence it came, tracking it through the corridors and chambers of New Sheoth palace until he found its source on the Duke of Dementia's bed. It seemed a strange place for food to be kept, but the chamberlain of Madness didn't care and simply tucked in with a will.

"Murder! Murder!"

Kithlan's cries did nothing to scare away his attacker, only serving to make the Breton vampire clasp him more firmly as he continued to feed, a Mazken rushing into the room before leaving again to find Sheogorath. A few minutes later, the Daedric Prince of Madness Himself was there, murmuring guidance as Haskill completed his feeding. After he had licked Kithlan's wounds closed, the chamberlain looked dazedly about himself.

"My Lord? What's going on?"

"You are finally My child in darkness, Haskill."

"What do you mean, my Lord?"

"I turned you, and now you're a vampire. You just experienced your first feeding."

It was only then that Haskill recalled his panic upon not being able to locate his supply of Hunger Tongues, Red Kelp Gas Bladders, and Withering Moons, then being unable to leave his bed without aid over the next three days, these events culminating in his period of blankness earlier. Shuddering, the new vampire wrapped his arms around himself and sank to his knees on the floor.

"Shh, it's all right," Sheogorath murmured, wrapping His arms around His chamberlain and touching His snout to the bare skin of Haskill's pate before adding, "If you _really_ don't want to be a vampire, then you can be cured."

"I can? How?"

"There is a witch I know in Cyrodiil, called Melisande. If I go to her with five empty Grand Soul Gems and some ingredients, she'll be able to whip up a bottle of Vampirism Cure Potion for Me to give to you."

"You would do that for me?"

"Of course I would."

"Well, give me some time of being a vampire first, my Lord, so that I can compare it to my old life before making up my mind."

"That's My Haskill."

The Argonian and Breton vampires got up from the floor and left the room, Sheogorath's arm around His youngling's shoulders, leaving Kithlan to shamefully realise that his bed was wet as a result of his bladder releasing its contents through fear.

✱   ✱   ✱

A week after his birth into darkness, Haskill sought out the Lord of the Never There and told Him, "I don't wish to be cured, my Lord."

"You don't?"

"No, my Lord. I'm a lot stronger than I used to be, making my work much easier, and I'm filled with a sense of freedom that I have _never_ felt before. I like that feeling, my Lord, and I wish to keep it."

"I knew you'd eventually come to understand why I enjoy being a vampire."

"Yes, my Lord. Um, Lord Sheogorath?"

Haskill indicated a growing bulge at his groin, and Sheogorath gave a wild grin as He grasped His chamberlain's hand and the two of them dashed to the door under the Throne of Madness.

**Author's Note:**

> Copyright © 2013 Romersa's Protégé. Individuals and groups are free to copy and share this work for all purposes except large scale distribution, subject to credit being given and any derivatives being released under the same or a similar licence. All other rights reserved. Produced with permission from Bethesda Softworks.


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